


To Love An Angel

by isntthisjustwonderful



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isntthisjustwonderful/pseuds/isntthisjustwonderful
Summary: After the death of Voldemort, Harry thought that he could finally be free. Unfortunately, that isn't the case. He overhears the ultimate betrayal from the people he considered family, and Harry plans to run away from Hogwarts. With the help of Luna, Neville and one Cedric Diggory, Harry finds family in the most unexpected of places.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	To Love An Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy lovely readers.

Harry dropped onto the ground, leaning back into a tree with a disgruntled sigh. It had been two weeks since the adventure to The Department of Mysteries, since the world finally accepted the fact that Voldemort was back, and he had hardly had a moment to himself since everything had gone down.

It had been a hectic couple of weeks, that was for sure. Upon returning to Hogwarts, Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather, had been rushed to St. Mungos after being cursed with a particularly nasty cutting hex, courtesy of one Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry had been desperate to see his godfather, but Dumbledore had instead redirected him to his office, driving his anxiety and temper up the wall. It was there that Harry found out why Voldemort was so anxious to hear the rest of the Prophecy. He had been furious, destroying a good portion of Dumbledore’s possessions in his anger.

One upside in the crazed mess was the truth about Umbridge coming out, three days after Voldemort’s public return. The centaur had left her trussed up like a turkey in front of the front doors. She had spent a few days recovering in the Hospital Wing, according to the twins. They had snuck in to check on her progress, or rather, lack thereof. They reported that she had been haunted and silent, refusing to speak about her encounter in the Forbidden Forest. She had jumped violently when Madam Pomfrey dropped her spoon on the floor, producing a loud clatter. While there, a student had come in with their feet cursed to dance until the counter curse was provided. Umbridge had actually screamed at the sound, which was somewhere between tap shoes and horse hooves. It hadn’t been hard to tell which sound Umbridge was actually afraid of. 

As soon as she could leave she did, sneaking out during dinner one night. She hadn’t been quite successful, as Peeves had seen her. He had chased her bodily from the castle, cheered on by most of the student body, alternatively hitting her over the head with a sock full of chalk and a borrowed walking stick.

Harry sighed again, letting his head drop back to rest on the tree trunk. The past few days had been a huge blurred together rush: finishing packing before the Leaving Feast, dodging reporters and amorous classmates trying to catch him alone, the stunning revelation ( for most people, at least ) that Sirius was actually innocent, numerous Death Eater attacks and arrests ( including the arrest and later execution of one Peter Pettigrew ), paired with Dumbledore’s reinstating as Headmaster of Hogwarts, it was simply a bit too much at the moment.

Harry lifted his head, observing the sprawling lawn. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and the students were making the most of it. They were scattered about in their respective groups, their chatter a meaningless buzz in the background. He could see Hermione, Ron and Ginny sitting closer to the lake, conversing under a leaning beech tree. They were probably looking for him, but he needed some space to mull over the happenings of the past two weeks. Or, as Neville called it, brood in peace. He supposed either description worked, but he really couldn't care less.

He glanced up at the sky as a dark streak shot through it, before disappearing. Harry frowned, sitting up properly, green eyes scanning the clouds. Then it happened, dozens of black figures shooting down from the sky. 

Harry’s eyes widened and he cursed, scrambling to his feet. He ran down the hill, heading towards his friends, flinging spells at the Death Eaters as they landed. The screams of students were not enough to drown out the sounds of battle as they ran for cover, but it did alert those inside the school that something was amiss.

Harry was so focused on reaching his friends that he didn’t notice the dark blur until it crashed into him, knocking both to the ground. He looked up at the savagely dangerous face of the Death Eater Mulciber, rolling out of the way of a fist that would have broken his nose. Throwing a stunner, along with a binding spell for good measure, over his shoulder, he leaped to his feet, not bothering to look if he had hit his target. Dodging students and Death Eaters alike, Harry crossed the twenty remaining yards between himself and his friends.

Hermione was slinging spells with deadly accuracy, knocking Death Eaters out of the sky. Ron was less accurate, but made up for it with sheer force. His spells cut into the enemy, felling them like wheat before the reaper. Ginny was more focused on protecting the students still attempting to make a mad dash for the castle, her fiery red hair a beacon in the mass of black-robed bodies hurtling from the sky. Harry’s heart wrenched painfully as he saw a young Ravenclaw boy fall as a Death Eater passed over him, a bright purple spell catching him in the chest. He did not rise again.

Harry’s gaze was redirected as another Death Eater swooped down on the group from above. The four of them scattered, dodging blindly as the man’s robes blacked out the sun. As he straightened up, Harry’s first instinct was to return to his friends, but his actions were halted before they truly had a chance to start as the ringleader himself touched down on the lawn up ahead.

Voldemort smiled cruelly at the screams that his appearance elicited amongst the students. His gaze swept over the carnage his followers were wrecking on the grounds, the bodies of students and Death Eaters alike, the members of the Order who had finally arrived, before his red eyes found Harry’s green ones. Harry started to raise his wand, but lowered it almost immediately as he was forced to duck another Death Eater, who otherwise would have taken his head off.

When he looked up again, Voldemort was sneering at him.

“Did you truly think your little band of rebel misfits could stop me?” Voldemort mocked. “Believe that you had a chance at defeating the most powerful sorcerer in the world? Bah! You should have bowed when you had the chance.”

“What are you going to do then? Kill me?” Harry shot back fiercely.

Voldemort merely laughed. “Kill you? Oh no. First I will capture all of your little friends. Each of the annoying ginger brats, and the bushy-haired know it all. You will watch them die, slowly and painfully. Then I will kill you.”

“That isn’t going to happen Tom,” Harry snapped, anger flaring. Voldemort snarled at the usage of his name, his non-existent nostrils flaring.

“Don’t call me that you insolent little fool!” Voldemort snarled, and the duel was on. Voldemort was ruthless, bonebreakers and slashing spells hurtling through the air. It was all Harry could do to keep up. Around them, the Death Eaters redirected their battles so that each follower had his back to Voldemort, locking the duo inside a ring of lethal magic.

Harry was hit with a strong sense of déjà vu. It was almost like being back in the graveyard of Little Hangleton again, only this time there was no hidden friend waiting for the right time to intervene and take them back to safety. 

Forcing his thoughts back to the battle at hand, Harry began throwing whatever spell came to mind, no longer caring about the type of magic he was using. He didn’t use any Dark Magic, but his spells definitely started straying into the Gray Magic category. Voldemort wasn’t holding back, so neither was he.

Harry didn’t even know what spell did it. All he knew is that one moment he was fighting the most feared Dark Lord in the past several centuries, and the next, he was doubled over panting, gazing at the dead body of Tom Riddle, the man’s wand clenched in Harry’s hand. The fights around him had stopped, and everyone was staring at him.

It was dead silent, then there was a sudden roar as the crowd burst into ecstatic screams and cheers, and the remaining Death Eaters fled, shooting into the sky. Harry was caught in a rush of people, the Weasleys surrounding him, the shouts of joy ringing in his ears. Despite the chaos around him, a single thought managed to worm its way into his head, a mad grin on his face.

Voldemort was dead. The war was over. He was free.


End file.
